Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
“Sexe?”
“Sex in French, I think.” When he arched a brow, a laugh bubbled out of her. “True story, I swear.” She pushed her hands through his hair and circled her thumbs over his scalp.
He closed his eyes and moaned. “I’m still waiting for my answer from this morning.”
A thrill trickled through her. “I gave myself a tattoo today.”
His head jerked back, and his wide eyes collided with hers. “Where?”
She shrugged, biting her cheek and squirming with the itch to blurt.
He searched her face and lowered his gaze to her neck, lingering there, heating her from the inside out. His eyes burned over her breasts, her belly, all the way to her toes, as if he could see through her long-sleeved shirt and cargo pants. He pursed his lips. “Remove your clothes.”
Emptying her expression, she did, fumbling as excitement sparked her pulse. When she stood in only a pair of red cheeky panties, he ran his hands over every inch of her flesh, spinning her around and lifting her arms.
He looked at her panties, her eyes, back at her panties, and shoved them down her legs. With a nudge of his toes on the insides of her ankles, he spread her stance apart, hesitated, and sat up. “You’ll give me your answer to my proposal, and you’ll tell me where the tattoo is.” His jaw tightened, and his chest lifted. “Go to the dungeon. Put your back against the tower.”
Turning toward the door, she let her smile stretch so wide her cheeks ached as she dashed down the hall and into their playroom.
At the center of the room, a wood beam rose from the concrete floor and disappeared into the ceiling. She backed against it until her ass touched one of the two horizontal bars bolted to the tower. She positioned her feet at either end of the lower bar, buckled the shackles around her ankles, and rose to her full height.
His soft, steady footfalls announced his approach in the hall. She gripped the bar at her back, her breath rushing out in noisy pants.
Clad in only his too-tight-to-be-legal leather pants, he didn’t look at her as he padded into the room. Her heart skipped a beat. Master Jay carried his authority with a confidence that quickened her pulse and fluttered her stomach.
Pacing along the wall of implements, he dragged out his decision, torturing her as he fingered every flogger, butt bruiser, whip, and cane. Finally, he removed the well-used leather belt, his favorite impact toy, the sandpaper long peeled away.
In three long strides, he stood before her, top button undone at his waist, belt dangling from his hand, masculine vitality heaving in waves from his rock hard body. “What’s the answer?”
His timbre was growly and demanding. Holy shit, he was sexy. Impatience flooded through her, tempting her to capitulate so he’d fuck her already. “Find the tattoo, and I’ll give you the answer.”
He reached around her, opened the collar affixed to the tower, and secured it around her neck. He did the same with the shackles attached to the horizontal bar at her ass, strapping them around her wrists. “What’s your safe word?”
“Huntress.”
Stepping back, his eyes lingered over every trussed inch. With a flex of his bicep, he swung the belt.
Fire spread from each slap on her thighs. Sweat beaded on his golden complexion. His muscles swelled through his swings, and his leathers strained to hold his arousal.
Her own urging rushed through her groin, leaking free of her pussy and drenching her inner thighs. Sweet mother, she wanted him to peel off those pants and slam into her, fast and bruising.
He locked eyes with her, and the belt thudded to the concrete. Groping the waistband of his pants, he shredded them in the next beat of her thumping heart. Then he was on her, plunging his dick between her legs, gripping the bar for support as he thrust faster, deeper, slamming into her cervix.
Charged quakes zinged through her womb, stirring her body into a fast-approaching release. She teetered, hanging from the binds, the power of his hips banging her into the tower.
With a rush of exhausted air, she gave into the orgasm, shaking with the force of it. A moan ripped from her throat, and he smothered it with his mouth, biting her lips and curling his tongue with hers.
He pulled out, halting his own release. He squatted at her feet, eyes on her throbbing pussy. “Is it here?” His probing finger wouldn’t find it, but she used the reprieve to catch her breath. His exploration moved deeper, and she grinned at the image of tattooing her own vagina. Unsuccessful in his hunt, he shifted behind the tower and spread her cheeks.
A ragged laugh burst from her chest. “You must think I’m a contortionist if you’re checking my asshole for ink.”